


the woods are lovely, dark and deep (but I have promises to keep)

by coalitiongirl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, S1, listen did i just want them to share a sleeping bag? so sue me, trapped together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 10:10:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10384320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coalitiongirl/pseuds/coalitiongirl
Summary: Emma takes in a deep breath. “Are you even…are you real, or a hallucination? Am I dead? Is this heaven? It’s so cold.”“Do you really think I’d be in heaven, Miss Swan?” Regina says dryly.Emma cracks open one eye. “A cold day in hell, then,” she says, sliding her hands into her sleeves. “Especially if it means us working together to survive this.” Regina shivers in acknowledgement, feeling the rush begin to fade and the cold seeping into her bones.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Goes AU from the middle of 1.21, in which Henry doesn't eat the turnover and Emma leaves town with it instead. 
> 
> (I am working slowly on a 6b AU! But it's a much more involved process and pretty exhausting so have this in the meantime.)

The weather has gone from chilly to unbearable as Regina speeds along the way out of Maine. The snow is piled high along the sides of narrow, twisty roads, and she curses as she nearly crashes into a snowbank. Storybrooke hasn’t had any snow in the twenty-eight years that she’d lived there, and she finds that it’s a lot more difficult to control a car in the snow than it had been to control a horse. 

 

Henry has never seen the snow, she thinks idly, and swallows back the odd sort of regret that follows realizations such as that one lately. So  _ fucking _ what. Henry has been safe and loved and…maybe not happy, not anymore, but he’s had everything she could possibly give him. He hasn’t been deprived because of temperate weather. He hasn’t been deprived because of the curse.

 

_ He’s been deprived because he was forced to be your son _ , comes an ugly voice in response. It sounds like Mother, and she swallows back her frustration and shame and continues to speed along the roads. 

 

All she has to do is find one person, someone she’d be happier to see gone, and Henry may yet forgive her. That’s why she’s out here, mere hours after Emma Swan had finally granted her her last wish and left town. That’s why she’s hunting for any sign of yellow metal against white snow. For Henry. 

 

She thinks with unease of the apple turnover she’d presented to Emma before she’d left. No, it might be too late already. One bite and Emma would have crashed, dead a moment after she’d fallen into eternal sleep. She’d thought she’d had Emma’s measure. She hadn’t thought Emma would  _ wait  _ to eat a pastry until she’d left Storybrooke.

 

(The last time she’d seen Emma with a pastry, Regina had been half-dressed on her lap and nipping at her neck, desperate to get even closer, to slide her hands along smooth abs and downward. Emma had been shaking with need, eyes bright and dilated, and she’d hesitated suddenly–  _ wait, did you bring donuts? _ – and she’d fished through Regina’s paper bag with a lazy hand still thumbing Regina’s nipple as she’d taken a bite.

 

_ You’re a pig _ , Regina had sniffed, and Emma had laughed and offered her little bites, swooping down to kiss her right after. Her mouth had tasted like sugar and coffee, and Regina had scowled and kissed her again and again and again, determined to ward away any absurd fondness with arousal.  _ The idiot. _ )

 

Though that certainly isn’t why she’s driving at breakneck speeds through the Maine underbrush, dodging towering piles of snow and muttering dark threats toward the savior as she presses onward.

 

She would know if the curse had been broken, wouldn’t she? She would know if Emma had crashed, because–

 

The next turn is too sharp, too unexpected while she’s still distracted by thoughts of Emma, and she twists her steering wheel in horror but it’s too late. The car veers to the side, lifts for a terrifying instant, and then smashes with a sickening crunch into a snowbank. “Dammit!” She slams her foot down on the gas pedal, but all she can hear is a high-pitched spinning sound. The car doesn’t move.

 

All she can see in her front windshield is white, pressing in around her, and she twists around to check the back and shudders. She can see the upper half of the forest around her, and that bodes even more poorly than the front windshield’s view does.

 

She can feel old claustrophobia returning, much less  _ safety  _ and much more  _ locked in a room in a castle.  _ The car is tilted downward, half of it buried in the snowbank, and she has to get out,  _ now _ . She crawls through it to the back door, feeling her rising panic as the car rocks with her movements, and she pushes open the back door just enough to slide down out of the car. 

 

Two thoughts cross her mind at once. One, she’s never getting home. She fishes through her pocket for her phone and sees that there’s no service out here, in the middle of the woods. She’ll have to walk for miles in the snow before she makes it somewhere where she can call for help.

 

And two,  _ Emma _ . It’s a new urgency that rises within her as she thinks about the turnover and the woman she despises, and she knows Emma has even less of a chance than she–

 

–Is that a glint of yellow in the snowbank? 

 

She takes a step forward, then another, slipping on snow as she stumbles down into the woods at the side of the road. If she hadn’t made that turn, there’s every chance that Emma had missed it, too, and her car is small enough that it might have flown into the air for more than a bump and–

 

–landed, burying itself in a snowbank twice the size of Regina’s. Regina gapes, staring at the half-submerged Bug trapped in soft snow, and she crouches down to where the tops of the windows are still visible. “Miss Swan? Miss Swan!” 

 

She wipes at the window, squints in and sees Emma in the driver’s seat. Her eyes are closed and there’s a streak of blood on her forehead, and Regina can’t see if the turnover in the Tupperware container on the passenger seat has been touched. “Emma!” she says, rapping desperately with cold-raw knuckles.

 

Emma doesn’t move.

 

Regina casts about for an idea, finds a large branch and hacks away at the snow beside the passenger seat. It’s soft, at least, much less solid than the packed snow she’d crashed into, and she doesn’t have to think as she grimly pushes it away. Not about how they’re  _ both  _ stranded now, and how there’s no one who’d possibly come after her if she never returned. Not about the turnover still on the seat on the other side of a sheet of glass, taunting her. Certainly not about a onetime lover with her eyes shut in the driver’s seat, her lips bluish with cold and her chest barely moving. 

 

It takes ten, maybe twenty minutes for her to clear out a path around the door, and she nearly sobs in relief to discover that it isn’t locked. “Emma,” she hisses, pushing the door open. “Emma, wake  _ up _ . I swear, if you’re dying, I’ll  _ kill  _ you.” Emma doesn’t budge. 

 

Regina digs through Emma’s pockets and finds warm gloves in them, slipping them on so she can press her palms to Emma’s cheeks, rubbing rapidly.  _ Let this be hypothermia. Let her just be unconscious, not– _

 

She swallows at her own stupidity– and it’s pointless, it really is, because she  _ isn’t _ and Emma  _ isn’t  _ and they don’t have– and she presses her lips to Emma’s forehead, tasting blood and cold, cold skin. “Wake up, you miserable excuse for a…” Her voice trails off, out of insults, somehow, and she rocks back wearily. 

 

She hasn’t kissed Emma in days– not since Kathryn had been found and Emma had cornered her in the hall–  _ you’re a sociopath _ , and there’d been no humor or attraction behind it anymore– and their little fling is over. It’s certainly not true love that would wake Emma from a sleeping curse, and Regina doesn’t know why all she can think of is kissing Daniel after Mother had crushed his heart, desperate for him to awaken.

 

But this time, a hoarse voice croaks, “I thought David was supposed to be Prince Charming,” and Emma blinks up at her, still shivering. “Regina? Where the hell are we?” 

 

Regina rocks back, horrified, and she only then thinks to yank open the Tupperware that she’d kicked to the floor when she’d climbed into the car. The turnover is inside, untouched. Emma hadn’t been under a sleeping curse after all.  _ Good _ , she thinks forcefully, and she feels oddly fragile now, as though she might sob. “Hey,” Emma protests, reaching weakly for the turnover. “That’s mine.” 

 

Regina hurls it from the car before Emma can grab it, sends it flying across the snowbank and out of sight. “It’s not going to help us now,” she says, her voice shaky, and Emma stares at her, still expressive enough while she shivers to look betrayed. “We’re trapped, Miss Swan. I’m afraid I missed the same turn as you did.” She gestures out the window to where her car is still suspended in the snowbank. 

 

Emma blinks at her again. “I left town,” she remembers. “Did you…” she says slowly. “Did you come after me?” 

 

Regina glares and glares and mutters, “No. I had…a conference. In Bangor.” 

 

“A conference in Bangor,” Emma repeats, and she reaches out with trembling fingers to touch Regina’s cheek. They’re ice-cold, but somehow they still burn her skin. “I thought you wanted me gone.” 

 

“I do,” Regina says, shoving away too-complex emotions to muster up a cool look. “I also wanted to go to my conference.”

 

Emma laughs, light with her teeth chattering. “Henry– Henry made you do this, didn’t he?”

 

It’s an easier and far more believable reason, and Regina curses herself for not starting out with it. “Yes,” she says dully. “My son’s love is contingent on your presence, to no one’s surprise.” 

 

Emma’s smile falters. “Archie says…he says that I’m the one who screwed things up for Henry. Not you.” Regina blinks at her, startled. She sounds like she means it, and Regina’s taken aback. No one has considered that Regina might not be the villain of this story. But Emma’s head drops and her eyes close. “I tried to…to do the right thing this time. And now I’m here.” She takes in a deep breath. “Are you even…are you real, or a hallucination? Am I dead? Is this heaven? It’s so cold.”

 

“Do you really think I’d be in heaven, Miss Swan?” Regina says dryly.

 

Emma cracks open one eye. “A cold day in hell, then,” she says, sliding her hands into her sleeves. “Especially if it means us working together to survive this.” Regina shivers in acknowledgement, feeling the rush begin to fade and the cold seeping into her bones. 

 

* * *

 

They dig out the trunk together, chipping at the snow that blocks the tail light so that they can turn on the car. “I don’t have enough gas to last us more than an hour or two,” Emma says, panting. “We have to ration it out, especially if we ever do get out of this snowbank. But fortunately for you, I’ve lived in my car before.” She pulls out an overnight bag with a flourish.

 

“I remember,” Regina says, smirking as she remembers Emma’s first days in town. 

 

Emma exhales in a long sigh. “How is one person so consistently awful?” she asks no one in particular, but it lacks all bite. “You know, I spent more nights in Storybrooke in  _ your bed _ than I did my car,” she shoots back, and Regina turns away, pressing her lips together and refusing to think about  _ that _ . “God, your comforter was so warm.” 

 

“Well, I didn’t bring it with me,” Regina snaps, uncomfortable again.

 

Emma snorts. “I’ve got a ratty old sleeping bag. We’ll have to settle for that.” She casts an eye around them. “It’s going to be dark soon. How long before someone comes after you?”

 

“No one is coming after us,” Regina says dully, and Emma frowns at her in surprise. “No one  _ could _ , and Hen– and no one will care enough to radio emergency services for me.” There had been exactly one person in the town who might have gone after her, had she been missing and in danger, and that person is crouched in the snow beside her, staring up at her dubiously.

 

“You’re the mayor of Storybrooke. You spent enough time telling me that I didn’t matter– that I didn’t have any people or roots–” Emma’s brow furrows. “You can’t tell me that you don’t have  _ anyone _ .” But Regina can see the slow realization dawning on Emma, the understanding that all Regina has is  _ Henry _ , and Henry is…not really hers anymore, not at all. 

 

The pity in Emma’s eyes raises Regina’s hackles. “At least they’ll  _ notice  _ if I’m gone,” she says haughtily. “Being loathed is better than fading away entirely, like you’d never been there in the first place. You won’t leave any holes behind.” It’s a lie, of course. Regina had already felt Emma’s absence the moment that she’d sped out of town, and she’d  _ hated  _ her. 

 

But she  _ does  _ know Emma, and she sees the moment her words lodge into Emma’s skin and score a direct hit. “You know, if you’d have made the effort to be a decent human being for even a  _ second _ , they might actually  _ like  _ you. And we wouldn’t be stuck here at all.” Emma’s jaw pulses under her skin. “But no, why do something easy when you can sabotage yourself instead?” 

 

“Oh, please,” Regina scoffs. “They don’t want me  _ nice _ . They want me weak.” They’d all loathed her when she’d been an innocent, a lonely queen in a kingdom that had mocked and despised and overlooked her for the crime of being  _ not Queen Eva _ . She’d endured Mother’s reminders that she’d never be loved, that she’d never have anyone who would treasure her, and every day in the palace had been another reminder of that. 

 

The only one who’d treasured her had been Snow– treasured her like a  _ toy _ , like a child mother forced to cater to her every whim. No, she could never have won over Storybrooke, and she has no desire to rule by anything other than fear. Emma is a fool, exactly the brand of fool that Storybrooke adores. “Don’t delude yourself, Miss Swan. They only wanted you because of what you did for them.” 

 

“Do you really think I don’t know that?” Emma says incredulously, and there’s a certainty to her voice that has Regina twitching with unease, turning away from Emma stiffly so as not to see that bare loneliness on Emma’s face.

 

She’s seen it before, too many times, walking off with Henry as Emma had gazed after them. She’d seen it one night when they’d been bruised and exhilarated, slumped on top of each other bonelessly on Regina’s bed. Regina had known– there’d been no way Emma could  _ spend the night _ , as though she’d meant something more than a very excellent hate fuck– and she’d shoved her halfheartedly.  _ Don’t let Henry hear you when you go _ , she’d said warningly.

 

Emma had only given her a curt nod– hurt, as though she’d really expected to stay– and had slipped out the door without another word.

 

She’d sent her away twice after that, each departure straining at something within Regina that hadn’t been supposed to  _ matter _ , and then one night Emma had fallen asleep and Regina hadn’t awakened her. She’d laid beside her in bed, staring at the smooth features of her bedmate, and she’d lain a blanket over her and spent a sleepless night with Emma curled into her. 

 

Emma makes her  _ weak _ , and she’d known it all year but hadn’t managed to stay away until it had been Emma who’d rejected her instead. She hates her. She doesn’t know why she hadn’t stayed back in her warm house with a son who would hate her regardless and let Emma die on the road. 

 

But if Emma had died, Regina’s curse would have been broken. It’s that simple. Regina doesn’t know why she hasn’t thought of it that way before. 

 

She hadn’t thought very much at all, come to think of it, or she wouldn’t have come out here at all. 

 

She says so, viciously determined to hurt Emma instead of allowing herself to be hurt, and Emma says, “Do you think I’d expect any less from you?” and slinks off, leaving her bag on top of the trunk.

 

Regina brings it into the car, pushing aside her guilt as she peers through it. There’s a sealed box of saltines in there, stale but edible, a couple of bottles of half-frozen water, and a pair of old glasses that have no lenses. There’s an old receipt at the bottom and a fake ID, Emma in her glasses in the photo and looking very young and tired. 

 

And, most importantly, there’s the sleeping bag.

 

She simmers inside the car while Emma sulks outside it, stomping through the snow in boots that are a lot more sensible than Regina’s and jabbing at the snowbank with her branch. It’s getting dark, and the car is beginning to cool down even more, the temperature drop chilling Regina to the bone. 

 

She finally gives up this absurd battle of wills, pushing the door open and snapping, “Would you just get inside before you freeze? Again?” 

 

Emma glares at her and stomps back to the car, kicking off her boots in the front seat and climbing into the back where Regina has situated herself. Regina hands her the box of crackers, and she grunts what might be a thank you and eats four of them. 

 

“You’re welcome,” Regina says coolly, as though they’re her crackers. Emma gives her an unamused look. Regina sighs loudly.

 

“Look,” Emma says after a minute. “We both know the only way we’re going to survive the night. So let’s just…” She jabs a thumb at the sleeping bag, and Regina groans. Yes, there’s only one way to make it through this cold with their combined body heat. “Get this over with.” 

 

“I seem to recall that being exactly what I said the first time I saw you naked,” Regina says, and Emma lets out a bark of laughter that startled them both. She  _ had  _ said it, breathless and wanting and attempting to keep her distance at least in words if not actions, and Emma had rolled her eyes and said  _ over?  _ and lifted her up against the wall, dropping to her knees.

 

_ Fuck _ , she hates Emma Swan, who’s currently leaning against the other end of the car, thumbs toying with the edge of her coat as Regina fiddles with the buttons of her own coat. She makes no attempt to pretend to avert her eyes, sliding off her coat and waiting expectantly, and Regina grits her teeth and unbuttons first her coat, then her blouse. 

 

Emma tugs off her jeans and Regina does the same, both of them with eyes fixed on each other as though challenging the other to look away, and Regina is the first to peel off her bra, too cold to keep herself from shivering uncontrollably. 

 

Emma grimaces, her eyes dropping. “Get in,” she says, thrusting the sleeping bag to Regina.

 

“I didn’t– didn’t know you– cared,” Regina says, the mocking tone undermined by her teeth chattering. Emma watches her knowingly, shivering herself as she pulls off her shirt, and Regina unzips the sleeping bag and slides in.

 

Emma follows, both of them fumbling at the zipper to pull it back up, and then they’re safely ensconced within, Emma’s body warm against Regina’s. Regina squirms closer, desperate for more heat, and they fall across the seat, propped up against the submerged side of the car. “Better?” Emma pants, sliding her arms around Regina’s waist. Regina tries to shift her own arms, but they’re trapped against Emma’s chest, and she winds up palming a breast instead.

 

“Sorry,” she mutters.

 

“I can’t believe the first time you ever apologize to me is for groping me,” Emma shoots back, but her eyes are closing lazily, looking more content than she has since Regina had found her unconscious in the car. “How about for tossing out that apple turnover? We’re stuck with saltines I bought three years ago when we could be eating fresh pastry.” 

 

Regina rolls her eyes, wriggling her hands free so they can rest lightly at Emma’s shoulder blades. “You can thank me later.”

 

“Thank you,” Emma says suddenly, tucking her chin onto Regina’s shoulder. “Not for the turnover. You kind of saved my life back there.” Her breath is warm on Regina’s skin, but Regina shivers anyway. “Even if this was a pit stop on the way to a mayoral conference in Bangor that’s definitely happening.” 

 

“You’re impossible,” Regina informs her, but it’s hard to be too angry now, with Emma tucked against her with skin on skin and her lips grazing Regina’s neck as she moves. “I didn’t come here on your behalf.” 

 

“Of course not,” Emma says, her foot rubbing against Regina’s. “You hate me.” 

 

Regina hums in agreement, reaching out of the sleeping bag for a moment. Emma lets out a whine of protest, but Regina ignores her, rolling up their coats into a pillow that she sets under their heads. “Oh,” Emma says, leaning back against it. “This is nice.” 

 

“You have an odd definition of nice,” Regina says, staring at her. Their faces are only a few inches apart now, Emma gazing at her with an expression she can’t understand, and she’s suddenly acutely aware of their bodies, pressed together. Her legs are entwined with Emma’s, their breasts moving together as they breathe, and Regina tries to shift away in a moment of tension and scrapes her nipples across Emma’s instead. 

 

Emma groans, and then looks chagrined. “Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean to…we’re not doing this anymore.” 

 

“Because I’m a sociopath,” Regina offers, trying not to sound too bitter. It’s  _ true _ , and it hadn’t burned too much when Emma had said it. It can’t be worse than _ evil _ , and she’d known that she’d been  _ that  _ for decades.

 

It had just…they’d had an odd relationship, this past year. They’d loathed each other and wanted each other and sometimes there had been moments when Emma had laughed or held her or looked at her and Regina had felt…never content, but warm, warm as she is right now. She hadn’t expected Emma to be pushed off the ledge finally, to find her limit. 

 

“I don’t know… _ what  _ you did with Kathryn,” Emma says, shaking her head, but her fingers creep up to touch Regina’s chin. “Or you thought that hurting your only friend was worth it.” The shame that creeps in is enough to have Regina scowling at herself, refusing to contemplate any of the actions that had brought them here.

 

Emma’s fingers continue their ascent to splay across her cheek, warming it. “But I don’t think you’d have come after me if you’d been a sociopath.” 

 

“I didn’t–” 

 

“Right,” Emma says, and she tilts her head, her other hand rubbing circles into Regina’s thigh. Her eyes are soft for a moment, the kind of soft that Regina had attributed to afterglow when she’d seen it before. “You’re a mystery, Madam Mayor.”

 

“That’s a terrible pickup line,” Regina scoffs, but she can feel her cheeks warming under Emma’s steady gaze, and sticky liquid is pooling against Emma’s leg where it’s wedged between hers. Emma must know it, too, but Regina’s never been one to give up in the face of the obvious. “You promised you were going to take away Henry. I don’t know what you were planning–” She can see the guilt on Emma’s face, and she revises, dread in her throat. “–Or what you actually did? What did you do?” 

 

“Nothing that mattered,” Emma says, looking away. “I…he wouldn’t come with me, anyway.” 

 

Regina stares at her, disbelieving, traitorous hope rising within her. “He wouldn’t?” 

 

“No,” Emma says flatly. “I have a curse to break, after all.”  _ Oh _ . Reality comes crashing down as quickly as it had faded away. No, Henry hadn’t stayed because he’d wanted  _ Regina _ . Henry doesn’t want–” 

 

“Regina,” Emma whispers, and her hand moves back into the sleeping back, her arms moving clumsily to enfold her into a hug. “I’m  _ sorry _ . It all got out of hand– god, I don’t understand why you–”

 

Regina kisses her, because she can’t bear to hear any more of what Emma thinks of her. Emma catches her kiss, lips and tongue and teeth as fiery as ever, and Regina shifts until she’s on top of Emma, resting on her arms as she thumbs her breasts, Emma writhing beneath her. “Warm,” Emma says, kissing her greedily. “So warm.” 

 

Regina rocks against her leg, inhaling as Emma brings it up to rub against her center, and she tears her mouth from Emma’s to attack her neck instead. She nips at it and feels Emma moan, throwing her head back to give Regina more access, and Regina licks the hollow of her throat and feels so, so warm. 

 

Emma’s thighs are a vise, squeezing tighter and tighter as she grinds against Regina’s leg, and Regina is moving just as desperately, both of them aflame with the friction of it. “I want to taste you,” Emma sighs, flipping them again so she can duck into the sleeping bag and latch onto one breast, then the other. Regina can feel it pulling straight from her core and gasps out a noise of approval, nails digging into Emma’s shoulders. “Why isn’t this sleeping bag bigger–” 

 

Regina manages to trap her knee between Emma’s thighs, jerking up with enough force that Emma chokes and bites down on Regina’s breast. Now it’s Regina who’s choking, surging against Emma’s leg with equal need, and they pant in synchrony, shifting with enough force that the car itself creaks under them. 

 

Emma slides a hand between them and buries two fingers in Regina’s center, crooking them and rubbing her thumb against Regina’s clit, and Regina jerks and comes at once, pulling Emma’s hair until Emma is crying out, too, shifting so she’s touching her own clit at the same time. They come together– they almost always do, somehow– and fall back against the seat again, Emma draped across Regina’s body and so warm that Regina can forget, for a moment, where they are and how they’re very likely doomed. 

 

“How are we so good at that?” Emma says, nuzzling her hair, and Regina has to laugh, pressed intimately against her and her heart as warm as her body, for now.

 

* * *

 

When she wakes up, she doesn’t remember where she is for several blessed moments. Emma is curled around her, and they’re both still warm, and she doesn’t understand why her bed seems suddenly so narrow until the events of the day before return.

 

She opens her eyes. Emma’s are closed, her face smooth and unworried, and Regina trails her fingers across Emma’s face. The mornings are always when she can be most gentle with Emma, can blame it on her own grogginess instead of some absurd tender feelings. Today, she’s reluctant to leave their little cocoon of warmth, and there isn’t much to  _ do  _ in there anyway aside from caressing Emma’s skin, enjoying the feel of it. 

 

When Emma opens her eyes, Regina is kissing her neck lazily, and she wraps an arm around her. “If we’re going to die today, at least we go out like this,” she says, reaching between them again. Regina bucks against her, feeling fingers sliding into her and moving almost gently, teasing out arousal. “Not much else to do here, anyway.” 

 

“We should...keep moving,” Regina pants. “Try to find civilization.” Emma shifts and Regina grabs her hand, forcing it back down between them. “Not  _ yet _ –” 

 

“I have a question first,” Emma says, mischievous as her hands skitter away. “Tell me why you  _ really  _ came out here and I’ll–” 

 

Regina pulls away from her, her good humor evaporating. Emma lets out a whine. “Come on, Regina, it was just a question– Come  _ back  _ here–” 

 

“I have to get dressed,” Regina says, yanking down the zipper of the sleeping bag. The cold air hits her a moment later, warmer than yesterday but not by much. “We’re just wasting time here.” 

 

“Right.” Emma collects herself, her face stiffening again. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.” 

 

They dress in stony silence, grimacing at their sticky bodies and yesterday’s clothes, and Regina feels as though she’s losing the last vestiges of something good but doesn’t know how to reclaim them. 

 

“I’m going out,” Emma says abruptly, tugging on her coat as though she can’t bear to spend another moment alone with Regina, and Regina waits until she goes before she folds up the sleeping bag and buries her face in it, inhaling Emma’s scent and struggling to stifle the exhausted tears that threaten to escape. 

 

She sobs and sobs and doesn’t know why, doesn’t know why she cares at all about Emma Swan who hates her and doesn’t know why she can’t reach out even the tiniest bit to keep Emma anyway. She’d awakened beside Emma and it had felt  _ right _ , right in all the ways that would normally make her want to push Emma out of her room and give her the cold shoulder for a week, and she just wants–

 

She just wants something  _ easy _ , for once, and sometimes they feel so close to easy that she’s terrified and makes it difficult instead.

 

It’s too cold to cry after a few minutes, and she wipes at her tears and eats a saltine, struggling to put on her game face again. She’s dealt with possessive kings and mothers and stepdaughters with a smile, and Emma Swan will not be the one to break her.

 

Emma Swan, who’s standing at the edge of the woods when she ducks out of the car, grinning triumphantly. “I found it!” she says, their earlier tiff forgotten, and Regina squints at her and takes a few steps forward before she recognizes what Emma’s holding. “How about something decent for breakfast?” 

 

“Emma, no,” Regina says, taking another careful step forward as horror rises within her. “Don’t–” 

 

Emma wrinkles her nose at her. “You know, you really don’t even deserve a piece of this after you tossed it out here, but you  _ did  _ save my life so I’m willing to share. You don’t have to look at me like I kicked your puppy.” 

 

Regina shakes her head vigorously, her heart stopping and her mind blank of anything but fear. “Emma, put it down. I’m warning you–” But Emma’s already pulling it out of the Tupperware, lifting the cursed apple turnover in her hand and opening her mouth, ready to bite in with gusto–

 

And then, a bear. Regina almost sobs in relief. “Emma, a  _ bear _ !” she calls out, and Emma turns around, her eyes wide. The bear is nearly just behind her, brown fur stark against the white of the snow, and its eyes are fixed on the turnover. It seems small, at least, just a bit taller than Emma, and so far, it doesn’t seem interested in either of them. 

 

“Okay,” Emma says slowly. “Nice bear. You can’t be worse than my last boss.” 

 

“I’m your last boss!” Regina says, but she can’t bring herself to be too outraged when Emma is standing face-to-face with a bear, backing slowly away. The bear moves closer, snapping at Emma’s hand, and Regina says tersely, “Drop the turnover.” 

 

Emma frowns, reluctant, the  _ idiot _ . “We don’t have much food–” 

 

“Drop. The. Turnover.” Her heart is in her throat, and she can’t tear her eyes away from Emma, from the way the bear seems fixated on her. It would only take a moment for it to claw open her face, a moment and Emma will be gone forever, and Regina is frozen in absolute terror. “Emma,  _ please _ –” 

 

Emma drops the turnover, tossing it to the bear, and Regina forgets about anything in that moment but the bear turning away from her to the food. “Back away,” she says as low as she can manage. “Just move slowly–” 

 

The bear snuffles at the turnover and bites into it, and an instant later, it’s on the ground. “Whoa,” Emma says, gaping at it. “What just…what…?” 

 

Regina can see the moment that it begins to dawn on Emma, the way her shoulders stiffen and her fists clench as she inhales, then exhales, then twists around to face Regina with her face disbelieving. “Was that…was that was all this was about? Did you  _ poison  _ the turnover?” 

 

“Not exactly,” Regina says weakly. “I never wanted to hurt you.” 

 

The bear lets out a little snort, and Emma whirls back around, staring at the bear and then Regina. “Not exactly? What the hell does that mean– is it  _ asleep _ ?” Regina can only nod in defeat, taking a step back as she waits for Emma to put the pieces together. “Some kind of drug– no, the  _ apple _ – it’s like… _ magic _ ?” She’s charging across the snow, stumbling through it at top speed toward Regina, and Regina backs up until she’s leaning back against the car when Emma catches up to her. “It’s not real. We both know it’s not real. It’s not–” 

 

“It’s real,” Regina whispers, and Emma shakes her head again, tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she says, and she’s surprised at how deeply she means it.

 

Emma stares at her for a long moment. “You tried to poison me,” she says dully. “You tried to  _ kill  _ me.” 

 

“No,” Regina says swiftly. “No, I just wanted you to stop trying to take Henry from me. I thought if you were asleep–” 

 

“You gave it to me for my ride out of here! I was going to leave! Why couldn’t you just let it be?” Emma demands, and she’s shaking, reeling at the information. “Why did you have to–” 

 

“I thought you’d eat it in town,” Regina says, and she seizes Emma’s hands, desperate to explain. Emma yanks them away. “And then you  _ left  _ and I thought you were going to take a bite on the road and  _ die _ , and I couldn’t– I couldn’t–” She’s pleading now, aching with the fear of losing something precious. “It’s why I came after you. I never wanted you to get hurt.” 

 

Emma shakes her head, taking a step back. “I was wrong,” she says, her teeth gritted together and her eyes wet and hopeless. “You  _ are  _ a sociopath.” 

 

Regina reaches for her again. “Emma–” 

 

“Don’t touch me!” Emma jumps away as though spooked, and Regina can only watch in dismayed horror. “Just don’t– just stay away from me,” Emma says dully, and Regina retreats into the Bug again to huddle in the backseat alone. 

 

* * *

 

They walk in silence for most of the day, Emma leading the way and Regina trailing after her. The path is slippery even on the road, and there’s no sign of another human anywhere nearby. They haven’t gotten anywhere close to civilization when Emma says, swinging her flashlight around to illuminate Regina, “It’s getting late. I’m going back.” 

 

“If we go back, we’ll never get anywhere,” Regina points out. 

 

“If we don’t, we’ll freeze to death.” Emma walks past her, back toward the Bug. “Be my guest. Stick around here.” She stalks forward and doesn’t look back. Regina follows after a moment, hurrying to keep up. “Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of Evil Queen? Can’t you magic up some blankets?” Emma demands, her voice unfriendly instead of playful.

 

“I haven’t had magic in twenty-eight years,” Regina says honestly.

 

Emma grunts, “So you’re useless,” and stalks onward, pacing outside the Bug by the time Regina catches up to her.

 

She doesn’t get undressed when Regina does, just stares at her with empty eyes as Regina eases off her clothes and slides into the sleeping bag, and Regina says tightly, at the end of her rope, “Stop sulking and get in here. You’re no use to either of us frozen to death.” 

 

“You really are the worst person I’ve ever met,” Emma grinds out, but she yanks off her clothes, sliding into the sleeping bag with her jaw set. This time, her warmth leaves Regina desolate and wanting, though she’s careful to rest her hands against Emma’s arms now instead of any lower. 

 

They’re lying as far apart as they can in the sleeping bag now, straining it until a few threads rip, and Emma sighs and slides back in, head buried in the curve of Regina’s neck again. “I hate you,” she mumbles. 

 

“I know,” Regina murmurs, but she can’t echo the sentiment, can’t do much more than put careful hands on Emma’s back to support her as Emma slumps against her. She feels wetness against her neck after a few minutes and tightens her grip, Emma’s tears sliding along her skin and chilling it. 

 

Another moment of silent tears, and then a quiet, “Is Mary Margaret really my mother?” 

 

Regina can’t stop the shiver of revulsion at that name. “Yes.” 

 

Emma stills. “God. Oh, god.” She pauses for a moment. “And you lied to Henry,” Emma says, too dulled to be angry. “So many times.” 

 

“If you’re trying to make me loathe myself, it’s a pointless exercise,” Regina says tightly. No one can make her loathe herself more than she already does, and she lies in silence in the sleeping bag, waiting for Emma’s next response.

 

It’s a long time coming. “You’ve killed…so many people,” she says, and Regina waits in stony silence for her condemnation. But instead Emma just sounds helplessly confused. “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t let me die, too.”

 

Regina can’t answer that, can’t explain or excuse or even take a reprieve, and she lies very still and waits for Emma to fall asleep. Instead, Emma pulls away for a moment, staring her in the eyes for the first time since the turnover, and says beseechingly, “Please, Regina.” 

 

Regina looks away, stares up at the Bug’s ceiling instead. “You figured out the rest. So figure out this.” 

 

“I  _ can’t _ ,” Emma says, and Regina reaches out finally to touch her lips, to brush her fingers along the curve of her cheek and through her tangled hair. 

 

It’s tender and tentative, and Regina savors every touch, certain that it will be the last. Emma watches in silence, still blinking back tears, and Regina shifts forward in a moment of daring and brushes kisses to her eyelids. “Can’t you?” she whispers, and it’s as far as she can go around Emma, as close as she can to a truth that neither of them is ready for.

 

Emma shakes her head, but her body betrays her. Regina can feel the wetness at her leg where Emma’s center is pressed to it, can feel her short, heavy breaths with every movement of her breasts against Regina’s. Regina can feel the indecision and the desire in Emma’s body, and it would be the easiest thing in the world to seduce her right now and get what Regina craves so deeply.

 

Instead, she closes her eyes and lets her hands return to Emma’s back, and Emma returns to her neck again, almost nuzzling it, this time without any more questions. 

 

The night is cold and Regina doesn’t sleep, not for a long time.

 

* * *

 

In the morning, Emma is quiet but not nearly as unfriendly as she’d been the day before. Regina wakes up in an empty sleeping bag, Emma in the front seat, and it’s  _ warm _ , which is the first sign that something’s wrong.

 

The car is on, the heat running. Emma is eating saltines. Regina says cautiously, “Do you really think that’s wise?” 

 

In response, Emma holds up their single box of food. “I saved you the last few,” she says. “We’re almost out.” She stares out the window, lost in thought. “No one has driven by here in two days. There’s nothing to eat in the woods in the middle of winter, unless we try…” She waves vaguely in the bear’s direction, looking sickened at the thought. “One of Goldilocks’s buddies over there. I think it’s time to move on.” 

 

They do sharpen sticks before they pack up, and it’s quiet until Emma says, “You must have done outdoorsy things in...the other place.” 

 

“I rode horses, yes. I didn’t…I never had to survive in the middle of the woods before.” She’d been pampered, kept inside, like a pretty doll for everyone’s use. Snow had been the one on the run.

 

She doesn’t say that, though, even though she sees it in Emma’s eyes. They walk in silence for most of the day, back in the direction they’d gone the day before. Today, they cover more ground, but it’s still in silence and Regina is exhausted by the time it’s dark and Emma finally holds up a hand. “Rabbit,” she says in a low voice, pointing at a clearing in front of them.

 

There is a fat-looking rabbit in the snow, one of the first animals they’ve seen all day. There’s a clumsy scuffle and Regina falls, Emma still rounding on the rabbit just in time. 

 

So they have meat. They clear away the snow and use a lighter to set damp wood and leaves on fire, and Regina huddles close to the flames and wonders how many more days it might be until they can find help. Her phone won’t even turn on anymore, and Storybrooke is miles and miles away from the nearest town. Their best bet is to keep walking, to stay alive for another few days until they find  _ someone _ . This is manageable. They’re not dead yet.

 

They eat in silence, and Emma opens the sleeping bag after and drapes it over their shoulders. Regina shivers, drawing closer to Emma and the fire, and Emma says, “I don’t understand.” 

 

Regina knows what she’s asking before she says it, and she waits in silence. Emma bites on her lip. “I don’t get why an adult woman would jump on some vendetta against a  _ twelve-year-old _ .” 

 

At least she hasn’t said  _ for being prettier than you _ , though the accusation stands in the silence. “Eighteen-year-old,” she says finally.

 

“What?” 

 

“I was eighteen when my mother forced me to marry the king,” Regina says, and Emma blinks at her like an  _ oh _ and watches her for a long time without a word.

 

Regina hesitates, feeling guilt and a desire to prove, somehow, that all of this is justifiable. “I was trapped,” she says, staring into the fire. “And I just wanted to be free.”

 

“You wanted to be powerful,” Emma says softly, and she sits in her place with her arms around her knees, looking very small and fragile. She  _ understands _ , somehow, and Regina doesn’t want to think about how it is that she could, how this curse has given Emma Swan the sort of life that would help her grasp Regina’s. Emma says, “It’s the only way to fight back sometimes. But it’s not an  _ excuse. _ ” 

 

“It’s different now,” Regina blurts out, and Emma looks at her dubiously. “It is,” she insists. “I…” She closes her eyes, feeling the warmth on her skin and thinking only of a little boy who’d looked at her like she’d been his world. “Henry changed everything.” 

 

Emma’s voice is gentler now. “Yeah,” she says, and of course, only Emma Swan could possibly understand how Henry could have remade her life in living color. “He does that.” 

 

“I couldn’t let the curse break,” Regina murmurs. “I couldn’t just...stand by and let you take away the one thing I’ve gotten right in my life. I couldn’t lose–” She’s crying before she can stop it, huge, gulping sobs that have Mother hissing in her ear,  _ weak, weak _ , and she doesn’t care about being weak in front of Emma Swan anymore.

 

Emma touches her gingerly, uncertainly, fingers ghosting along her arm until they settle on her back. “I didn’t want to see him,” she says shakily. “I didn’t want to see him when he was born because I knew I’d never be able to let him go. And I saw him at my door on my birthday and I…I wasn’t able to let him go. He’s…” 

 

“He’s everything,” Regina whispers through her tears, and Emma nods fiercely, wraps her arm around Regina and holds her close as she weeps. “I thought…I thought I could have it all. Henry and the curse and my vengeance and…” She thinks of Emma with lips on hers, both of them gasping with need as they rock against the side of a closet in Town Hall, thinks of Emma’s eyes bright with warmth and how it had awakened the oddest little spark within her. “I fucked up,” she says finally.

 

“We both did a lot of that,” Emma says, laughing lightly. “I mean, look at us. Trapped in the middle of the woods because you tried to  _ poison  _ me–” 

 

Regina’s eyes narrow. “–Because you tried to take my son–” 

 

“–Because you’re some kind of fairytale  _ villain _ ,” Emma corrects her, and they stare at each other for a moment, the hostility fading as quickly as it had come. “I…god, Regina, all the time we were hooking up, I just wanted you to be  _ decent _ . And now…” Regina tenses and Emma withdraws her hand, gazing at her with an unreadable look before she takes in a breath. “Now I know the truth and I still want that, which is…probably stupid as hell, but…” She blinks back tears of her own. “But against all my better judgement, you  _ matter _ , and…”  

 

She freezes, caught in her own indecision, and leans in to brush a tentative kiss to Regina’s lips. “If we’re going to die, I want it to be like this,” she whispers against Regina’s lips, and Regina touches her cheeks, holds her hands there for a long time. Emma kisses her for a long time.

 

It’s strange, living in the darkness for so long and finally finding someone like Emma, someone like Henry, people who burn bright like the sun until there are only shadows to hide in and she can’t hide at all. Emma’s kiss is brighter than their flickering fire, brighter than the light of the moon or the headlights bearing down on them, and Regina wants–

 

_ Wait _ .

 

_ Headlights?  _

 

They’re jumping up at the same time, pulling apart to run to the road, shouting at the slowly approaching car. It’s a state trooper, they’re  _ saved _ , and he slows to a halt in front of them. 

 

And only then does Regina see who’s sitting in the passenger seat, the one person she’d have never anticipated searching for her.

 

Henry bolts from the car and runs to her, flinging his arms around her, and she can only wrap him into an embrace as he talks, rapid-fire. “You disappeared– I thought you were just scheming but then the car was gone and I was so scared– no one could  _ leave,  _ we wrecked David’s truck trying– but I found you. I found you.” He’s beaming at her and she sways, unsteady, and he hasn’t looked at her like this in months.

 

He rocks with her and she whispers shakily, “I love you, I  _ love  _ you,” and he looks up at her as though he might believe it. “Henry...my Henry, I’m so sorry for everything–” She gathers her courage and  _ tries _ . “For– for the–” 

 

He goes still in her arms, and she’s afraid that she’s already pushed him away before she could confess when he says disbelievingly, “ _ Emma _ ?” 

 

_ Oh.  _ Emma catches him as he runs to her, swings him around as though she hasn’t been living on crackers and a single rabbit over the past three days, and she’s laughing and he is, too. “You’re here! You were here all along,” Henry says wonderingly. “I thought you’d…I thought you were ignoring my calls! Are you coming back?” 

 

Emma hesitates. Emma looks up at Regina, and Regina says, nudging aside a thousand warnings and insecurities, “Of course she is.”  _ If we’re going to die, I want it to be like this _ . But they’re not dying, and she pauses, afraid for a moment that this is the end, then. 

 

Emma’s face lights up, and it’s the first time Regina’s ever been the one to cast away the shadows. She sets Henry down, pulling him with her, and presses a kiss to Regina’s cheek in front of their very startled son. “We’re going to make things right,” she murmurs into Regina’s ear, and Regina can only set a hand on Henry’s shoulder and nod in acquiescence, her breathing strained with the lump in her throat.

 

The state trooper clears her throat. “Standard procedure is to take you to the nearest hospital,” she says. “But I can also turn around and take you back home, if you’d prefer. Or to...wherever your campgrounds are.” She looks baffled for a moment, as though she isn’t quite sure where any of them had come from. 

 

“You’re both sitting in the backseat,” Henry informs them, wrinkling his nose. “No offense, but you kind of stink.”

 

Emma laughs. “Oh, we’re plenty used to the backseat by now.” She darts a sly look at Regina and Regina gives her a smoldering one in return. Emma gulps, eyes shining. 

 

“Home,” she says finally.  _ Home _ , where she’s been miserable and ecstatic and where a curse is waiting for her.  _ Home, _ with the savior and the son they share, to maybe take some steps forward.  _ Home,  _ with the two people she lo– she cares about most in the universe.

 

She takes a step forward through the snow, Emma’s hand slipping into hers and Henry tucked between them. “Let’s go home.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
